


Look back and smile at perils past

by tallrezi



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Ben/Armie - Freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, Hux is an android, M/M, Westworld AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 05:32:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11502795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tallrezi/pseuds/tallrezi
Summary: Ben knew the android hosts in Westworld were lifelike, but he never expected to fall in love with one.





	Look back and smile at perils past

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fic! (We'll pretend a Yu-Gi-Oh one from 16 years ago never happened) I had a Westworld AU knocking around in my head for a while. I'm not much of a writer but I wanted to at least get down Ben and Hux's first meeting. Please enjoy!

Ben blinked the dust from his eyes as he stepped off the train in Sweetwater. When his parents had gifted him the ticket to Westworld for his 30th birthday, he was ecstatic, but he honestly didn't know what to expect. He'd read reviews on the internet and heard from friends of friends how lifelike the experience was, how accurate every last detail was. Now, as the soot from the steam engine train and the dirt passing horses kicked up dulled the sheen on his black hair, he could finally believe the hype. Even aboard the train ride into the park, Ben could barely tell the difference between the robotic hosts and his fellow human guests. The only real clue giving them away was the newcomers’ excited chatter about visiting the saloon or striking out and discovering gold.

Sure enough, a gaggle of guests shoved past Ben, making a bee line for Mariposa Saloon, a few of the workers there welcoming them and already getting handsy. Ben had heard in far too much detail from his father and his father’s friend Lando about some of the more unsavory adventures the two men had in the brothel there. He tried to shake the memory from his thoughts. Ben wasn't opposed to a jaunt with the revelers and sex workers but he didn't want to limit himself. After all, the park was vast, with countless narratives waiting to unfold for him. He was certainly glad his parents weren't with him here now. There was something to be said for going this alone, without them watching over his shoulder at the choices he would make, or having to put up with their endless bickering.

Strolling down the main drag at a leisurely pace, Ben took in the bustling scenes surrounding him. There was the town sheriff, waving wanted posters and offering large bounties. Prospectors were recruiting would-be adventurers with the promise of riches to be had. A photographer was taking “old-timey” style photos, the flash of the magnesium powder sending puffs of smoke into the sky. Ben imagined that despite the antique equipment, the photos would probably be sent right to the guests’ phones. There was a ton of high tech innovation here hiding beneath the park’s 19th century exterior.

“My friends are gonna be so fucking jealous,” Ben couldn't help thinking to himself. He supposed he might as well get them souvenirs, if only to further rub this experience in their faces. The park had services to hold or ship anything he purchased so he wouldn't be weighed down carrying anything around. Ben looked around at the nearby buildings and spotted a weathered sign reading in neat block letters “HUX’S GENERAL GOODS”. He figured that was as good a place as any to shop for knickknacks.

The bell above the door tinkled gently as Ben let it swing shut behind him. Between the morning sun shining through the shop windows and the haze of dust that had blown in from outside, the store had a golden glow about it. Ben wove his way through a few shelves stocked with canned goods and camping supplies towards the back of the store. The till was yet unmanned, but just as Ben leaned over the counter to search out a shop clerk, the door to the store room swung open.

“Oh, hello. I wasn't expecting anyone this early. You're my first customer of the day. Can I help you?” the clerk asked.

Ben felt his mouth fall open. The clerk had to be one of the most beautiful men he'd ever seen. Tall and think, with a shock of red hair that had a fiery gleam in the sunlight. He had it combed neatly back, held in place with what was probably a bit of pomade. Even his accent - English? Irish? Ben had to admit he wasn't sure - was pleasant on Ben’s ears.

The man’s brow furrowed slightly and he cleared his throat.

“Are you alright, sir? Did you want to place an order?” he said.

“I - shit - sorry, I'm new here, I'm just visiting,” Ben said. He stumbled over his words a bit as he tried to shake himself out of his stupor. “I wanted to find gifts for my friends. Do you have anything like that?”

“We might have a few things that would interest you. Let's take a look in the catalogue.” the clerk replied. He reached into a drawer under the counter and pulled out a large book. He dropped it on the counter in front of them.

“We can place an order on pretty much anything in here. I'll take your information and it will be delivered to my shop in a few days’ time,” he said. He started thumbing through the catalogue, pausing to point out particular products to Ben.

Ben could barely focus on what the clerk was showing him. He could feel a prickle of sweat starting to bead up on the back of his neck. He prayed the man didn't notice his nervousness.   
Were the hosts supposed to smell this good? Whoever designed this one was on their A-game because Ben could pick up a pine scent, probably from working in proximity to the shipping crates in the store room, as well as the fresh clean scent of the pomade in his hair. He had been expecting the hosts in general to be rather grungy to simulate life out on the frontier, but this shop keeper was apparently meticulous in his upkeep.

Both Ben and the clerk were jolted out of their huddle when the door to the shop slammed open violently. Ben slowly backed behind one of the shelves as another man sauntered to the back of the store, his spurred boots clicking with his heavy gait. He was sporting thick mutton chops and a cruel grin on his face, and was brandishing a revolver.

“M-May I help you?” the clerk asked, trying valiantly to retain his composure.

“‘Mornin’, ‘General’. You can indeed help me.” He waved his gun lazily towards the register. “I'm gonna kindly ask that you had over what's in your till and whatever you have in your safe back there. Do it quickly and quietly and we won't have ourselves any trouble.”

“I'm afraid I don't have any money in either. I made my deposit at the bank last night,” the clerk said.

“Come now, General, do you honestly expect me to believe a lie like that?” the bandit asked.

“I swear to you it’s true. My till is empty.”

Ben’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two. The clerk was looking more and more frightened. By now he had his shaking hands held up in front of him in surrender. The bandit hadn't seemed to notice Ben’s presence. Ben assumed that meant the bandit was also a host, and not a guest like himself. He could probably walk right out of the shop without him even noticing. It was no skin off his teeth if either of these men were hurt or killed. They weren't real, and the park would carry on as normal.

The bandit raised his gun directly at the clerk’s forehead.

“I'm gonna give you until the count of three to hand over the money or I'm gonna put a bullet right between those pretty eyes of yours.

“One.”

Ben watched the clerk squeeze his eyes shut. He really should just walk out of here. His personal guide told him before he entered the park that guests couldn't be killed. The hosts were all programmed to never hurt a living thing. Here in the moment though, Ben wasn't sure how much he believed that. The guns looked real. The clerk’s fear felt real.

“Two.” The click of the safety on the gun seemed to echo through the shop.

_They're not real. They're not real. This isn't real. This isn't real._

“Three.”

BANG

The bandit’s body crumpled to the floor. The clerk blinked his eyes open in surprise. Ben stood with his chest heaving and his gun smoking.

“Oh. Oh, fuck, are you alright?” Ben asked.

The clerk stared at him wide-eyed, still shaking.

Ben let out a nervous giggle. “You don't have to answer that. Goddamn, I sure am glad they equipped us with a gun back there.” He reholstered his gun, pulled off his hat, and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I'm alright… the question is are you all right?” the clerk asked, quirking an eyebrow at Ben.

“Yeah, I think so. I've never done that before,” Ben said.

“Clearly.”

Ben dropped the hat back on his head. An awkward silence filled the shop as the both stared at the body now bleeding onto the floor.

“So, um, I think that was more than enough of that kind of excitement for today,” Ben said. “What say you close up your shop early?”

“What are you thinking?” the clerk asked.

“I'm thinking… I'm thinking I go turn this guy over to the sherif and I use that bounty to buy us both a drink.”

The clerk leveled him a stare before letting out an exasperated sigh. “Oh alright,” he said. He reached behind his back to untie his apron.

Ben bent down to hoist the dead robber over his shoulders. As he stood back up, the clerk turned to him. “I don't think I ever got your name, by the way.”

“It's Ben. Ben Solo,” Ben replied.

“Well, Ben Solo, my name is Armitage, but you can call me Armie for short.”

Ben flashed him a toothy grin. “Armie, huh? I like that. I'll see you later at the Mariposa?”

“Sure thing, Ben.”

Despite carrying the dead weight of another man on his shoulders, Ben felt lighter than air.

* * *

 

The bounty on the robber wasn't particularly high, being a small fry compared to the murderers and marauders that roamed the park. But it was enough to cover Ben’s anticipated tab. He fiddled with a glass of whiskey, having not drank much. Ben had first considered ordering it to calm his nerves, but at the same time he didn't want to dull the excitement throbbing through his veins. He'd been standing at the bar for over an hour now, and he was beginning to worry that Armie wouldn't show. He'd already spurned the advances of two different workers.

Ben tried not to let the thought that Armie wasn't “real” creep into his head. After the botched robbery in the store earlier gave him such an adrenaline rush, he'd decided to stop questioning whether his encounters in Westworld were real or not. That kind of doubt could ruin the fun and spoil the memories he made here. For all intents and purposes, everything was “real”, including Armie, and he was going to let the narratives progress around him as organically as possible.

“I suppose I should really thank you for earlier.”

Ben whipped his head around at the sound of Armie’s voice. He hadn't been stood up!

“Thank me for saving your life?” Ben asked with a lop sided smile.

“Thank you for leaving such a horrendous blood stain in my shop. That’s sure to attract customers,” Armie said.

“Better that guy’s blood than yours.”

Armie finally cracked a smile at Ben and sidled up next to him at the bar. “Two more of what he's having,” Armie told the bartender, waving a hand in Ben’s direction. “His tab.” He passed Ben the second, fresh drink and took a large sip of his own.

Ben looked at him around the rim of his glass. “So that guy kept calling you ‘General’…”

Armie rolled his eyes. “Yes, it's a silly nickname I earned in town. Some kind of pun based on my shop. You know, the ‘General’ goods.”

“So it's not because you were an army general?” Ben asked.

“Good lord, no,” Armie said. “Although maybe it’s cause I'm as humorless and stiff as one.”

Ben snorted into his glass. “You don't seem so humorless to me.” Ben paused. “Or stiff for that matter.”

A blush crept up onto Armie’s pale face. “Wouldn't you like to know,” he muttered, turning his head away from Ben.

“I would actually,” Ben said softly. He let his fingers trail lightly over Armie’s resting on the bar.

Armie looked back at Ben and leaned in closer. “I guess I do owe you after everything,” he whispered. From this close, even in the dim saloon, Ben could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes. Ben swallowed. Armie really was gorgeous.

“Come, we don't have to stay here. I have an apartment above my shop.” Armie reached down and laced his fingers with Ben. Ben fumbled in his pocket with his free hand and slapped a few bills down on the bar. He allowed Armie to lead him out of the saloon.

Despite the detailed stories he’d heard from his father and Lando, Ben swore that he was keeping this one to himself.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find me on tumblr at tallrezi!


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